


A Regular At Cookiehana

by LiberAmans214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Cookieshop AU, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel Fluff, Gabriel Has a Crush on Sam Winchester, Gabriel is a Novak (Supernatural), Implied Dean Winchester and Castiel, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Sam Winchester Fluff, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Smart Sam Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, so basically sam's addicted to cookies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 03:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21237416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: “I was meaning to make something clear between us.”Sam raises his eyebrows.“Look. I need to know that you know, that I’m willing to host an intervention any day you feel like you’ve lost control.” Gabriel purses his lips, to keep himself from laughing. “You just need to text me once, man, and like send me all your contacts, and we’ll all be here for you, with a cookie-ntervention.”Sam pauses. Opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Gabriel keeps on looking at him, enjoying the way the sutble smile settles on Sam’s features.“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.” Sam says, eventually. “These have really been keeping the anxiety at bay. And increasing my functionality. Honestly, just need these cookies to keep myself sane, but that’s all.”Gabriel bites his lip.“So, rehab then?”





	A Regular At Cookiehana

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sabriel! - I know I keep coming to the cookie shop and for some reason it’s always your shift but don’t you dare judge me I need these for my sanity

The chimes outside the door chime cheerfully, as it swings open in coordination to Gabriel’s groan. He’d finally gotten comfortable in his chair - (you _know_ how chairs can be, on one’s first day of work) - but he has to sit up.

As he does, his eyes fall on the customer. Gabriel has to raise his eyes some more to meet speckled hazel ones - which he _thinks_ he’s seen before, in the corner of his mind, and holy crap, this guy is _tall_. He’s also wide, but skinny - and has hair which covers his forehead entirely.

When Gabriel smiles at him, in response to a returned gaze, it’s not just his stellar customer-service etiquette in play.

“You’re,” Gabriel’s voice trails off, as the guy crosses the distance to the counter in a couple large steps, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You’re _Sam_.”

“And _you’re_ good at this game,” Sam returns, with the distracted air of someone who doesn’t know he’s being funny. “_Gabriel_.” He adds, blinking as if he’s speaking half from memory, and half leaning in to read his glossy new nametag.

“Finally.” Gabriel grins. “_Someone_ who’s at my level, in Guess-a-Name-2, trademark symbol attached.”

Sam shrugs at him, and Gabriel looks at him a little bit more, to distinguish the tired eyes from a polite smile. He doesn’t say anything else, and they only stick around looking at each other for a second, before Sam is bending from the hip to check out the cookies on display earnestly, and Gabriel has to try to get used to the notion, and not think about how it looks like Sam disappeared - from the other end of the counter.

“Aren’t you Cas’s brother?” Sam asked, suddenly, still not straightening from where he was crouched to get a better look.

“Yeah,” Gabriel hummed. So _that’s_ how they knew each other. Scenes came flipping to his head. Cas’s birthday weekend, finally getting to meet the Dean he keeps talking about, and his freshman brother, Sam Winchester. The food, the drinks - and the drinking together. The conversation - Sam had said, he was pre-law. Gotten more drunk. He’d said he liked to call their brothers being together_, _something called a_ Destiel_. Another yellow drink. He’d said he thought Gabriel’s Han Solo cosplay was cute.

Good times.

“Cassie keeps yapping about _your_ brother.” Gabriel tells him, musing. “It’s adorable, really.”

“I was a freshman, back then.” Sam finally rises. “I _finish_ college next year. But, them? They haven’t been able to get over themselves and confess, yet.” Sam sighs. “A White Chocolate Macadamia, please.” He adds, randomly.

“On it.” Gabriel nods, glancing sideways at the cookie in question. “Maybe they’ll do it this year, when they graduate and realize how pathetic they are to everyone but each other. You having the cookie here, or to go?”

“To go. And I guess I hope so, too.”

Gabriel sets about packing the one cookie. It looks scrumptious, and smells heavenly - hell, this guy’s got great taste - and Gabriel already knows what he’s going to sneak out for dinner. (Not entirely legal ones, but perks, you see.) “Here.” He says, handing it out. “Toast your cookie-milk to those dumbasses when you’re done, ‘kay?”

Sam takes it with a huge smile, and it’s one of the contagious kinds, and Gabriel’s stood there basking in it for a moment. “Thank you. And, yep. You got it.” He pulls out his wallet from his faded blue jeans.

As he pays, Gabriel can’t resist the urge to say it. “Also, congratulations. You’re my second customer _ever_, and the first was just my boss, the big man here, in disguise trying to check on me, so that’s that.”

Sam laughs at that, softly. “Congratulations to you, too.” Sam’s holding the cookie-box in both his hands, once he’s received his change - and it’s downright adorable, is what it is to Gabriel.

So, of course he’s got to ruin the moment. “You know what, Samshine? Never took you to be the type for cookies at _10_ pm on a Wednesday.”

Sam frowns, just the littlest bit. “Well, I never took you as the type to _ever_ work for money, but here we are.”

“Already jabbing at the trust fund, huh? Fair.” Gabriel chuckled, not offended in the least. “But in my defense, I’m only here for the cookies. _And_ ‘cause they said no one shows up during this shift.”

“Well, they probably just lied to get you to agree.” Gabriel fakes being appalled, and Sam goes on. “I mean, this place is college adjacent. You -”

“Yeah, you _never_ know who might need a cookie, with all y'all weirdos.” Gabriel finishes, smirking.

“You have no idea how correct you are.” Sam tells him. “Goodnight, Gabriel.” And he walks out, another polite smile in place.

“Thank you for your visit.” Gabriel calls after him, “Come again, to Cookiehana.”

And he has no idea, that he might just have predicted the future.

Gabriel sees him take the right, for the bus stand, he guesses - and then returns to his chair, trying to fit in that perfect way, from before he’d been interrupted by his only to-be regular, ever.

*

Sam shows up. Every day.

Around the same time, wearing similar clothes each night, like he didn’t really intend to go out, but then tucked himself in an oversized hoodie and set off to Cookiehana impromptu - and he might order different cookies mostly, but Gabriel likes to think he knows his favorites, like a typical provider-regular relationship ought to be.

“I should try your M&M cookie.” Sam declares, as he walks in at 10 again, to an empty shop.

“Good evening to you, _too_.” Gabriel throws back, rolling his eyes, but sets about packing the dessert in question.

*

Sam’s waiting for his peanut butter cookies. Gabriel’s taking longer than usual, because they’re out of the pretty white cardboard, they fold into boxes, so Gabriel’s hunting in the back for more. It’s been a good week.

“You think I should start bringing back the boxes you give me every night?” Sam proposes, deadpan in place. “I’ve managed to procure enough to build a pile.”

“You sure love your cookies, Sammich.” Gabriel shrugs.

Sam’s clearly in one of his moods - Gabriel has noticed that there’s days when he’s really tired, and just wants to get back soon; and then there’s days when he wants to have a conversation, while Gabriel prepares his cookie to take away.

Today is certainly the former, and the bags under his eyes are quite pronounced. Gabriel’s wondering if he’s smooth enough to slip in a question about his sleep schedule, in the middle of a cookie discussion. Starting your last year in college is hard. He wonders if Sam needs to talk about something serious, to vent or simply, to panic out loud. But, because he’s Gabriel, he instead chooses to ask him the question that’s been clinging to him, for a while, now.

“Do you have a cat?”

“I am my own cat.” Sam delivers it with such a perfect lack of emotion, that Gabriel almost bursts with laughter.

“That’s the spirit.” He tells him, and hands him his cookie.

Sam takes it, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips, now. He puts the money down on the counter, and Gabriel returns the change by putting the coins on the counter too, but Sam is already on his way out.

“Hey!” Gabriel yells. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Sam - _very_ earnestly - looks down at the cookies he’s holding. “No?”

“Your change, Sammyhana.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, and walks out from behind the counter to hand it over, because Sam has a perfectly shaken expression. “What are ya staring at? Thought I didn’t have legs, before?” He adds, shifting weight to the other hip.

“No, I -” Sam shuts himself up. And shoves the change in his pocket. “Thank you, Gabriel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gabriel hums, as a segue. “Counting on it. Wait -” He calls for a second time, when Sam’s almost out the door. He leans against a pillar.

“I was meaning to make something clear between us.”

Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Look. I need to know that _you_ know, that I’m willing to host an intervention any day you feel like you’ve lost control.” Gabriel purses his lips, to keep himself from laughing. “You just need to text me once, man, and like send me all your contacts, and we’ll all be here for you, with a cookie-ntervention.”

Sam pauses. Opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Gabriel keeps on looking at him, enjoying the way the sutble smile settles on Sam’s features.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.” Sam says, eventually. “These have really been keeping the anxiety at bay. And increasing my functionality. Honestly, just need these cookies to keep myself _sane_, but that’s all.”

Gabriel bites his lip.

“So, rehab then?”

*

It’s raining, and it’s raining hard. Gabriel is half considering setting up camp here, if it goes on for too long. The chair’s familiar with his ass now, so that’s the bedding - and it’s a cookie shop, so that’s the dinner.

Though, he thinks randomly, surely it’s alright for him to lock the place and get out of there early, considering no one would wish to buy cookies in a storm, at night. He’s still toying with the prospect of sending Chuck a message that he’ll be ending his shift early, when there’s a noise outside the shop. Maybe one of his friends - _Meg_, it could only be Meg - came to rescue him in a car. Then, the door swings open with a loud noise - letting in the thundering backdrop of the rain too.

It’s Sam.

“_Oh my God_.” His hair is wet and flattened over his head, though he’s carrying an umbrella meant for a small ice cream stand, considering how large it is.

“_Good evening_, to you too.” Sam replies, breaking into a breathless smile as he sets the umbrella to dry in a corner of the otherwise empty shop.

“You’ve got a _problem_.” Gabriel tells him, meaning every word.

“Is the shop closed?” Sam contemplates, out loud. He’s not completely himself, somehow. Like the rain has caused the dry exterior to slide off. He sounds like he had, that one time three years back, and is wearing such an easy smile.

“Apparently not.” Gabriel smiles back, not even trying to fight it once he realized he wouldn’t win.

“Then, may I please buy a cookie?” Sam dug out a wallet. “Chocolate Chip. My midterms are over. I needed to celebrate, okay? Weather can’t stop me.”

Gabriel didn’t leave to get the cookie yet. He simply stared Sam in the eyes. “You _don’t_ got a problem.” He informs him. “How did it go?”

Sam rubs the back of his head, with the kind of shy modesty that Gabriel recognizes from Castiel.

“So you kicked it in the ass?” He asks, instead.

Sam shrugs. “Feels like it.”

“I’m so proud.” Gabriel beams at him. He finally goes to pull out the chocolate chip tray.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t _think_ that you’d probably be closing 'cause of the storm.” Sam mumbles, as if his high spirits had begun to subside, as Gabriel’s eyes left his. “Just rushed out here. I’ll just take my one cookie, and then you can leave too.”

“Do you see me folding you a box, Samwise? This isn’t to-go. Have you even seen the fucking sky, you idiot?” He isn’t able to mean it with menace, at all. “You’re _staying_, and having it right here.”

Sam doesn’t even protest, so there’s that.

Gabriel hands the cookie to him on a white plate, which is just the perfect size to serve cookies in. He looks up to meet Sam’s eyes again, but Sam’s only got eyes for the cookies - he doesn’t even mind, because once the cookie’s been heated, the chips begin to melt into this wonderful gooey chocolate, and it’s just -

Sam picks it up, and takes a bite.

Gabriel dramatically gasps, as if on cue. “Just like _that_?”

“No offense,” Sam sounds unsure. “How else do I -”

“What kind of barbarian doesn’t have milk with their cookie, Samsquatch?” Gabriel frowns. “Oh, fuck it. I’m getting you a glass.” Gabriel bent, to get a glass. “Also, guess what? The complimentary milk is supposed to be served in a _bowl-_shaped whatever, but I suppose I could bend company rules for our only regular.”

“I thought you were going to say your favorite customer.” Sam smirks.

“Of course.” Gabriel agrees. “I get you a glass, for being our only regular. I _heat_ the milk, cause you’re my favorite.”

Sam’s eyes shine.

“Go. I’ll be right over with all the good stuff, Samantha.” Gabriel nudges, and Sam agrees, and scopes out a table from where he can see what Gabriel is up to.

When Gabriel shoots a glance in his direction, he’s looking right at him, so. He obviously _instantly_ mucks things up, and clicks for 2 hours, instead of 2 minutes, on the microwave. When he’s finally gotten the milk perfectly heated, he adds another cookie to the plate and beams at the presentation. It’s perfect, with a brown and a white cookie against the background of a white plate, and a coaster for the glass of milk in the same tray.

When he walks over to Sam, he sees him clicking away on his phone instead.

A weird kind of feeling envelopes him. “Texting the missus that the cookieman held you captive?”

“What? No.” Sam puts his phone down, with a smile. “I don’t call you cookieman. That’s just Dean. He’s asking about the storm.”

“Ah.” And the weird feeling almost completely dissipates, though that doesn’t help him in ignoring the reason why it showed up in the first place. “Here you go.”

Sam looks at all the things on the tray. “Okay.”

Gabriel sits down across him. “How do you feel, when you know you’re about to have the best meal of your life, Sambo?”

“_Fuck_.” And Gabriel can’t tell if that’s from the bite of milk-soaked cookie he just took, or in answer to this question. “I’m an idiot for not _always_ having ate them like this.”

“It’s alright, I’ll still feed you.” Gabriel grins, patting his hand. Sam’s eyes light up, as he grinned too - and if those eyes simply aren’t the most beautiful thing, ever, he doesn’t know what else was.

“You’re joining me?” Sam pushes the tray towards the middle of the table.

“Nah, I got that cookie for you. Compliments of the shop. Kicking ass at college, showing up in a storm, and all that.” Gabriel tells him, but he’s still got his eyes on the other cookie, and Sam chuckles.

“I’ll buy another one for myself, when I’m done. You have this. I don’t want to eat by myself, please?” Sam urges, and doesn’t have to say it another time, because Gabriel all but shrugs off his courtesy and takes it - soon joining Sam in all his moaning appreciation, and heartfelt compliments expressed in the form of profanities because that’s the height of poetry these days.

*

And as they spend the rainy evening like that, dipping their cookies in milk and nibbling at them to savor every bit of perfection flooding their senses - they talk, and they listen, and it’s all that it needs to be.

And then, Sam says, “By the way, about before? I don’t have a girlfriend. Still, uh, kinda figuring out my _type_.” And Gabriel blinks at him, awestruck that he’s still thinking of that, and maybe blushes a little, but it doesn’t stop him from adding, “I already know _my_ type, though. In fact, I might be getting to know my type a little more, this evening.” And then it’s Sam’s turn to turn pink, and that’s exactly how they spend the evening - and it’s all _just_ right.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! Hope you had a good time <3 Have a wonderful day, and keep it sailing!


End file.
